


More Than Friends (or Why Draco Malfoy Should Have Sex in His Office)

by unadulteratedstorycollector



Series: Just Friends (or Why Draco Malfoy Shouldn't Have Sex in His Office) [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Partners, Fluff, M/M, Office Sex, Prostate Massage, Sex Toys, bad singing, naked singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 04:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12101169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unadulteratedstorycollector/pseuds/unadulteratedstorycollector
Summary: Three little snippets of life after Just Friends (or Why Draco Malfoy Shouldn't Have Sex in His Office). Hermione finally gets her party, Harry finally gets his chair, and Draco finally gets to shag in his office uninterrupted.





	More Than Friends (or Why Draco Malfoy Should Have Sex in His Office)

**Author's Note:**

> These are a few silly little scenes set after my Draco Tops Harry piece. I hope you like them! Thanks to Aibidil and gracie for the quick beta!

“For the record, I think this is a terrible idea,” Harry grumbles, crossing his hands over himself. Not that he minds Draco seeing him naked, obviously, just that usually Draco isn't fully dressed are they aren't in the middle of Harry’s best friends’ flat. Draco's elegant fingers fold the long ends of his tie, tickling at Harry’s throat. Harry closes his eye and takes a deep breath. Getting a hard on now would be a very, very bad idea. He needs to think about something gross. Like Snape kissing his mum. A shiver runs down his spine and he grimaces. Opening his eyes, he looks up at his boyfriend. Draco’s eyes are shining, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Well, you were the one who came up with it,” Draco drawls and Harry shuffles, bringing himself closer to his boyfriend and wrapping his arms around Draco’s slender waist. This is nice. Maybe Harry could just Apparate them to his flat and Draco could get naked. A loud burst of laughter drags his attention back to the matter at hand.

“Yeah… back when I thought we were just mates,” he whines, knowing he sounds ridiculous. They'd never been just mates. Not really. Draco's eyes soften and Harry’s stomach swirls.

“Indeed. Forethought has never been your strong suit.” He finishes tying his old school tie and pats the knot. Harry looks down at the tie, his fingers running through the green silk. He could have had one of these, if he hadn't begged the hat. His life could have been so different. Draco's fingertips brush against his neck and Harry’s chest tightens, his head becoming light and his toes tingling. His life turned out ok. Better than ok.

“You don’t mind everyone seeing me naked?” Harry whispers, capturing Draco’s gaze. Draco rolls his eyes and drops his hands so that they're resting on Harry’s hip. Harry leans into the warmth, protecting himself with Draco’s body.

“I hate to tell you this, but pretty much everyone out there has seen you naked before,” Draco says with a grin. Harry’s neck tingles and his cheeks heat up with embarrassment. That was one time. And he didn’t realise that everyone was there, or that everyone was filming him. He thinks that Blaise may still have a copy for ‘insurance purposes’. The wanker. Harry is really going to have to get that video off him.

“Draco…” he frowns, curling his arms around Draco's neck. Draco looks at him, his eyes swirling and the corner of his lip twitching. Fuck, Harry wants to kiss him. Kiss him and take him somewhere else, very, very far away. Where there are no other people. Stupid Hermione and her rightness.

“Funnily enough, Harry, I am fine with you making a fool of yourself,” Draco murmurs, bending his head, his nose brushing against Harry’s, his eyes rooting Harry to the spot. Harry’s breath is short, his chest tight and his cock starting to harden. This is a very bad time for him to have an erection. The silk of the tie tickles at his navel and he swallows, watching Draco’s eyes follow the movement. Fuck, he wants Draco inside him. Maybe he could keep the tie on. Maybe Draco could use it to tie him up. There are endless tie possibilities.

“Ready?” Hermione’s voice cuts through the haze and Draco steps away from Harry, glancing down and raising one eyebrow, an amused glint in his eye. Harry coughs, trying to calm his heart, and gives his cock a bit of a rub in a vague attempt to make it go down.

“Not even slightly,” he hisses. Draco chuckles, running his hand through his hair, the front bit flopping into his eyes. He straightens Harry’s tie, running his fingers through Harry’s hair, very unhelpfully given the erection situation, and straightens his own clothes. Show off. Harry feels mildly sick at the thought of everyone else out there. Completely clothed. Draco sighs, rolling his eyes again and bending to press a soft kiss to Harry’s lips.

“He's ready, Hermione,” he calls, opening the bedroom door and sauntering down the hall. Harry takes a deep breath. He can do this. He’s a Gryffindor. He’s an Auror. He’s Harry fucking Potter. He clasps his hands together in front of him, in a vague attempt to hide himself and makes his way to the living room. Where all his friends are standing. Fully clothed. Fucking hell.

“Thanks, Draco! Ok, everyone, gather around!” He hears Hermione shout, and the general noise of the party dies down. So many people looking at him so naked, without any alcohol in his system. This can only end in tears. His tears. He’s going to cry. Hermione starts talking again and he gives himself a shake. “Welcome to my I'm Always Right Party. As many of you know, I'm always right, and a certain pair of men never listen to me—”

“Oi! I listen to you all the time,” Ron shouts from across the room and Harry can’t help but grin.

“She'd have your balls if you didn't!” Seamus slurs back, clearly a little drunk. Harry wishes he was a little drunk. Also, a little clothed. Even if it was just a pair of pants. No one wants to see his arse. Ok, maybe Draco. But probably not under these circumstances. Actually… no, his boyfriend is enough of a dick that he’ll probably be loving this.

“Indeed, Seamus,” Hermione continues, “Or, I’d just force him to stand naked surrounded by all his friends, wearing a Slytherin tie, and singing me a lovely song. And so, without further ado, please clap, cheer and give a whistle for our very own Harry Potter.” Hermione finishes and the room fills with shouts and applause. Harry takes another deep breath and steps out into the living room. Everyone is looking at him. Everyone. Hermione even has a video camera. This isn’t fair. He scans the room, his eyes finding Draco’s and Draco gives him a warm smile, his eyes shining with laughter. At least someone is happy.

“Hermione, I both love and hate you.” Harry shakes his head, before coughing once, shuffling on his feet and staring at his best friend. The room goes quiet as he starts to sing.

“Granger is our Queen,  
Granger is our Queen,  
She knows exactly what she’s seen  
Granger is our Queen.  
She told us we would have a fling,  
She said that she would walk right in,  
That's why I stand up here and sing:  
Granger is our Queen.”

*****

“I hate teenagers,” Draco hisses as they make their way towards the front door of their latest assignment. Harry will admit it is a weird one. But then, no weirder than the balloon condoms or the crop circle. Just a little more embarrassing. Possibly because it actually involves a person, and isn’t just an inanimate, or animate, object in the middle of a shop. Harry looks over to where Draco is glaring at the house, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

“I don’t know… they’re becoming more original.” Harry shrugs, moving to open the little gate. It’s a cute house, in the middle of the countryside, looking like something that should be on the top of a biscuit tin. A nice hedge around it, white gate, the door even has roses growing around it. How the teenagers even found their way there is a mystery. He feels Draco follow him, his neck tingling at the feeling of his boyfriend so close to his back. Usually, when he’s behind Harry it’s because he’s about to shove Harry up against a hard surface and fuck him. Not now. Do not think about that now. Highly inappropriate.

“Tricking elderly witches into buying muggle sex toys is not original,” Draco growls and Harry can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face. Ok, not original, but fucking hilarious. Exactly the sort of thing that Harry wishes he could have been doing at eighteen.

“It is sort of hilarious though.” He stops outside the front door and turns to Draco.

“Then you can do the explaining,” Draco snaps, one eyebrow raised at Harry, his long fingers wrapped around his robes as he tugs them into place. Harry’s fingers tingle, his back tightening at the thought of explaining a sex toy to an elderly woman. Fuck, he can barely talk about sex with his friends, let alone a complete stranger. He shakes his head, doing up the buttons on his robes.

“Ha! How about, you do the explaining and I promise I won't laugh?” Harry grins. Draco’s eyes flicker over his face and he tilts his head slightly, clearly swirling his answer around his mouth.

“I'll do the explaining, you most certainly won't laugh, and you have to be the one to explain to Robards,” Draco counters. Harry frowns at him. Draco’s up to something. He can tell by the quirk at the corner of his mouth, the sparkle in his eye. The fact that his counter-offer didn’t involve Harry being naked.

“You want me to—” he cuts himself off. Whatever reason Draco has for not wanting to explain to Robards is fine. Just as long as Harry doesn’t have to explain to the woman in the house. “You know what? Deal.”

“Excellent.” Draco bends and presses a hard kiss to Harry’s lips, sealing the deal, before straightening, a smug grin on his face. Fuck, Harry is going to pay for this later. His cock twitches at the thought. He can feel Draco’s heat radiating off him, and he leans in, catching himself before he touches Draco. Draco smirks knowingly. Harry coughs, running his hand through his hair and trying to ground himself.

“So, what does Mrs Wilkes think she's bought?” Harry asks, vaguely attempting to get back to work. Maybe later he can get Draco to smirk at him whilst he fucks him slowly. Maybe they can do it in front of a mirror. He shuffles on the spot, trying to rearrange himself.

“A mobile phone,” Draco shrugs.

“And she's actually bought…?” Harry trails off, worrying at the glint in Draco’s eye as Draco smirks wickedly and knocks on the front door.

*****

She's bought a prostate massager. A vibrating prostate massager. The offending item is sat on her living room table, violent pink and fucking huge. Harry can’t take his eyes off it. It doesn’t help that Draco has recently been talking about the possibility of bringing toys into their bedroom. Or kitchen. Or hallway. Wherever he fancies jumping Harry. Not that Harry’s complaining, but Draco is insatiable. He doesn’t know if that’s just Draco or if Draco is only like that with him. He’d like to think the latter. He knows it’s probably the former. Draco’s knee presses against his, hot and solid and Harry drags his mind back to the case.

“You see Mrs Wilkes, the young boys—”

“And girls,” Mrs Wilkes interrupts. She’s the tiniest of women, plump and homely. Exactly how Harry imagines Molly will be when she’s in her late nineties. Her house is immaculate, and everything is cream. Everything except the near-fluorescent toy on her table. Draco sighs almost inaudibly and his smile widens, his eyes rippling in annoyance.

“Yes, the young boys and girls, they weren't meaning to be malicious—”

“Oh no! I could tell they were lovely.” Mrs Wilkes shakes her head, and Harry can feel Draco’s energy running over him. Draco’s not annoyed, not really. He’s good at dealing with the elderly. It’s more that he doesn’t like being interrupted at the best of times. Harry moves his foot closer to Draco’s, brushing it against his boyfriend’s, in an attempt to calm him down. He feels rather than sees Draco’s shoulders relax.

“Yes, I'm sure they are—”

“Beautiful teeth.”

“Indeed, Mrs Wilkes. But regardless of their teeth, I am afraid the object they have sold you is not a mobile telephone.” Draco leans forward, away from Harry, and Harry knows he’s got it covered. He can’t help but feel that he doesn’t really need to be here. Fucking Robards. But he’s close. He’s got enough of a lead on Robards in points, and they’re coming up to the finish line. And then the good office chair will be his and he’ll never get sent on a stupid case ever again. The battle of wits will be done. And then he can actually do proper Auror work. Maybe fight a couple of dark wizards. He tries to ignore the thrum of excitement that runs through his stomach at the thought. Mrs Wilkes frowns, looking between the two of them.

“But it vibrates. I saw it,” she says, clearly confused. Draco chuckles a little and Harry leans back in the sofa. He’s definitely not needed.

“Yes, but lots of things vibrate, Mrs Wilkes,” Draco points out, sounding very reasonable. Mrs Wilkes nods slowly and picks it up, pressing the button that makes it vibrate. Harry freezes, staring at it as it vibrates, noticing the small ball bearings that twist in the middle, right about where the rim of his arsehole would sit. He crosses one leg over the other in what he hopes is a subtle way. Judging by the way Draco glances over at him, his eyes on fire, Harry isn’t very successful. Fuck knows how Draco is acting so cool about the whole thing.

“So, what is it then?” Mrs Wilkes asks, and Harry thinks he’s going to faint. He needs the blood in his head. He definitely does not need it to be in his cock. Draco leans forward a little, cocking his head to the side, like he hasn’t quite heard her. How could he not have heard her?

“Pardon?” Draco says, his voice too light. Harry smirks at the back of his head. See. Not as unaffected as he’s making out.

“What is it?” Mrs Wilkes repeats and Draco sighs, taking the toy from her and gesturing to it with his hands. His perfect, beautiful hands with perfect, beautiful fingers. Nope. There’s no point in Harry even trying to focus. There’s no way he’s going to be able to think with Draco holding that bloody prostate massager like it’s a fucking present. Fucking Robards giving them this fucking case. Harry holds in a groan and tries to think of other things. Less sexy things.

“It's a prostate massager,” Draco tells her and she nods, her eyebrows raised high.

“Ooh.”

“Indeed. So, we’ll just take it away and you'll be reimbursed—”

“What if I want it!” Mrs Wilkes shouts and Draco stops, clearly not expecting that. Harry looks between the two of them, trying his hardest to hold in his laughter. This is brilliant. Draco’s going to have to explain why Mrs Wilkes can’t keep it. Fantastic.

“Mrs Wilkes—”

“My husband has been dead for many years, young man, I deserve some fun. Now how does it work?” She gestures with her head, like she’s being entirely reasonable. She is not being reasonable. She is being insane. She cannot keep the prostate massager. For one thing, it’s evidence! It needs to be filed away so that it can be used to help build their case against the kids selling them. There is no way Draco would—

“You take this end, and very slowly insert it into the anal passage—”

“The what, dear?” Mrs Wilkes leans forward and Harry frowns at Draco. He should not be doing this. Draco catches his eye for a second and Harry knows he’s going to deeply regret saying he would talk to Robards. Why did he take that deal? He knew there had to be something wrong with it. Draco turns back to Mrs Wilkes and holds the toy so that Harry can see it clearly.

“Into the arsehole, curving it slightly so that when it's all the way in this rounded end here presses gently but firmly against the prostate.” He strokes along the longer, curved arm, his finger pale against the toy, elegant and fucking sexy. Harry bites the inside of his cheek. “This bottom part then rests against the sensitive part of your skin just underneath it. When you finally have the massager in place, nudging at your prostate and perineum, you press this button.” He presses the button again, making it vibrate, running his hands up and down it, as if demonstrating how it works. Not seductive at all. Wanker. “As you can see the massager vibrates, rubbing inside you.”

“Well, that sounds wonderful. I think I'll keep it,” Mrs Wilkes declares in a worryingly rough voice. Harry presses his hand into his leg to stop himself from pressing it into his groin and bites harder. He is not touching himself whilst on a job. In front of people. In the showers at work doesn’t count.

“Uh… Mrs Wilkes, there may be a problem with you keeping it,” Harry stutters, his voice thick and shaky, mainly because he needs to remind himself that touching himself in front of a random old woman would be a very bad idea. 

“Oh?” Mrs Wilkes frowns and Harry looks to Draco for help.

“You don't have a prostate. This is a male sex toy,” Draco explains, gesturing again. Mrs Wilkes looks at it for a second before jumping up, not blushing at all, laughing like she’s just made a silly little mistake.

“Oh! I see! Well then you boys take it and enjoy. And if you see those lovely young boys and girls, send them my way. I'll see what else they have.” She stands up, smiling at them both, and Draco rises, shrinking the toy and putting it in a small evidence bag he carries with him.

“Right… uh…” Harry mumbles, standing and rearranging his robes. Mrs Wilkes starts to gesture them out of the room and Draco does a small, almost half bow and grabs Harry’s arm, dragging him from the room.

“Good bye, Mrs Wilkes,” Draco calls as they leave the house.

“Bye dears!” Mrs Wilkes shouts back, waving happily before closing the door and leaving Harry and Draco in the middle of the very quiet street. Harry coughs, looking at Draco through his eyelashes, his whole face hot and probably bright red. Draco is smoothing down his robes, ignoring the fact that Harry is having a minor meltdown.

“Well… that was…” Harry croaks and Draco raises an eyebrow before turning and stalking down the road to their Apparition point. Harry stumbles to catch up, his legs numb and his cock aching in his trousers. “You know, we’re pretty close to The Burrow. We could stop in there for lunch?” Harry suggests, not quite able to meet Draco’s eyes.

“We can’t. We need to have this case filed before lunch time in order for you to have enough points to win that fucking chair,” Draco drawls, sounding incredibly bored. Harry’s head whips up to stare at him, his mouth dropped open and his eyes wide. Fuck. This is it. Harry knew he was close. He just didn’t realise how close. And Draco organised the whole thing. Fucking hell, he’s a genius.

“I love you!” Harry says, bumping his arm along Draco’s and taking Draco’s hand in his. Draco looks down at Harry, rolling his eyes, but doesn’t pull his hand away.

“Obviously.”

*****

“Look at it,” Harry marvels, staring down at the chair currently sitting in the middle of their office. The second that they’d filed the report, with half an hour to spare, Harry had marched into Robards room and declared himself the victor. He was going to have to Pensieve the memory of Robards face to watch over and over. Whilst sitting in the— no, his— chair. His beautiful chair. “Just look,” he breathes.

“No.” Draco doesn’t look up from where he’s looking at their new casefile. He’d insisted they get a new one the second Robards had given Harry his chair. Not that Harry doesn’t want to get back to real cases. He just wants to admire his chair for a little bit first.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispers, his whole body feeling light.

“It’s a chair,” Draco mutters. The scratch of his quill against parchment makes Harry frown. Draco’s ruining Harry’s moment. He worked fucking hard to get the chair. He wants to revel in it. Just a little bit.

“It’s the best chair ever,” he grumbles, turning and sitting in his chair. He’d spent the first half hour after getting the chair readjusting it so that it fits perfectly. Each individual back section has been fitted so it’s moulded for his back, the footrest is the perfect height, and the armrests sit right under his elbows. Perfect. He spins, turning to face Draco, and grins at him, “Look at it!”

“Harry, there is only one reason why a chair is worth looking at,” Draco says, putting his quill down and turning to look at Harry, his eyes shining. His long legs are crossed in front of him, his grey muggle trousers clinging to his muscles, and his shirt tight against his chest. He’s fucking gorgeous. His lips quirk at the corner, his eyes dark and Harry’s stomach swoops, his cock hardening in his trousers.

“Oh yeah?” His voice comes out rough and thick and Draco huffs out a laugh before standing and sauntering over to Harry, his hips swaying, the tell-tale bulge in his trousers giving away just how turned on he is. Harry tilts his head back, unable to stop smiling. Draco places one hand on either side of Harry, resting on the armrests that Harry has only just adjusted, and bends over Harry. Harry can feel Draco’s breath on his lips, the tickle sending spasms through him, making his brain stop thinking about fucking armrests. He needs to taste Draco. To have their mouths pressed together. Draco’s hair tickles against his forehead and Harry can’t take his eyes off Draco’s perfect cupid-bow lips.

“Mmm…” Draco rumbles, pressing his lips against Harry’s. Harry sighs against it, moving his hands up Draco’s sides, feeling the twitch of muscle under his fingertips. Draco’s tongue runs along his bottom lips and he opens, their tongues lazily twisting together. Draco tastes like pure sex, and Harry doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how Draco kisses him, like it’s the last thing he will ever do.

Draco’s hands start to slide up Harry’s side, taking his t-shirt with him. Harry arches his back, needing to be closer to Draco, needing to feel his heat. His fingers twine through Draco’s hair, the silky strands tickling at his skin and he can’t stop the groan that escapes his throat. Draco smiles against his lips, before pulling back and ripping Harry’s t-shirt over his head. Harry shivers as the cool air caresses his skin and then Draco’s hot mouth is on his nipple, his tongue swirling until it’s standing rock hard and his cock is straining painfully against his zip.

“Draco…” he whines and Draco moans, his mouth leaving trails across Harry’s chest. Licking up Harry’s skin, teeth dragging along his neck, he starts to undo Harry’s trousers.

“Turn over,” Draco growls into Harry’s ear, the vibrations heading right to Harry’s cock, “knees on the seat, hands on the back.” Harry shuffles quickly, his head fuzzy and his toes tingling with anticipation. Draco’s hand runs down his sides, strong and sure, and Harry nearly comes from the way Draco is touching him. And then Draco tugs at Harry’s trousers, exposing him, and Harry’s lets out an embarrassing squeak.

“Please, Draco…” Harry mewls and he can practically hear Draco smirking behind him. He hears Draco mutter something and then one long, slick finger is running along Harry’s arse, circling his hole before stroking from balls to back. Harry tries to push against Draco, needing to have something in him, needing some sort of friction, but Draco is clearly in the mood for slow and teasing rather than fast and hard.

“So fucking good,” Draco breathes, pressing his finger into Harry’s hole, making Harry cry out, “You look so fucking good like this. You’re practically shaking with need. So fucking gorgeous.” Draco mutters as he fucks into Harry with his fingers, adding one, then two fingers, stretching Harry around them as Harry writhes on the chair. His hands dig into the headrest, his head leaning between them, as the room fills with the filthy sounds of Draco fingering him open.

“Draco, I need more… please…” Harry cries and Draco stills for a moment before slipping his fingers from Harry. Harry’s body sags and he listens for the familiar sound of Draco’s zip being undone. Instead he hears another muttered spell and looks over his shoulder to see Draco lovingly rubbing lube over the giant prostate massager, “Fuck… Draco, is that—”

“You didn't think I would just leave it in evidence, did you? I have plans for this.” Draco doesn’t look at Harry as he keeps rubbing the toy. Fuck. He shouldn’t have that. It should be in evidence. He’s breaking so many rules by having it in the office, let alone rubbing lube all over it. Let alone shoving it up Harry’s arse. The thought makes Harry shiver with need and he grunts, banging his head against the chair.

“Fuck me,” he whispers.

“That's the plan,” Draco sings, giving him a second before he feels the dull, cool head of the toy pressed against his entrance. He gasps as Draco slides it into him slowly, his long fingers rubbing and massaging his arse cheeks as he does. Clenching his hands and bracing his knees against the armrests, Harry forces himself not to press backwards. His cock hangs heavy between his legs, dribbling pearls of precome, and his back sweats as he tries to hold still.

Finally, Draco has the prostate massager pressed neatly inside Harry, the end rubbing deliciously against his prostate, and Harry takes a deep breath. He can’t come now. He knows it’s going to be fucking spectacular when he does. Draco bends down, pressing soft kisses against Harry’s skin, his fingers threading through Harry’s hair and tickling at the base of Harry’s neck. His nerves feel like they’re on fire and his legs shake.

“Are you ready?” Draco asks and Harry nods, unable to say anything. His mouth is dry and his hands are clammy. Draco presses a button and the prostate massager starts to vibrate, pleasure coiling in the pit of Harry’s stomach as it tickles his prostate. Fucking hell. This is the best thing ever. They should definitely be using this again. Not all the time, but… fuck. Harry can’t control the way his body wriggles, his back pushing against nothing as Draco’s hands run along his legs. And then Draco’s talented fingers are wrapping around Harry’s cock and he thinks he’s going to cry.

“Draco… please… I’m going to come…” Harry shouts out and Draco licks along his spine. Draco’s hands leave Harry and Harry vaguely registers a zip being undone. His balls start to tighten and he gasps, drinking in the air, as his orgasm builds. The toy is slipped from his arse and he screams out, feeling empty, his orgasm fading. Draco bare chest presses against his back as his cock slides into Harry’s opening and Harry pushes forward, pushes back, meeting Draco with every thrust.

Draco pounds into him, the slick slap of skin against skin drowning out Harry’s cries and the occasional cracking that register in the back of Harry’s mind. Draco grabs his hips, angling them down slightly, and starts to fuck harder, in short, strong thrusts against Harry’s prostate. Harry’s balls tighten again and he can’t breathe, his muscles tight and his toes curling as the pressure explodes through him. Blinding heat rips through his body as he comes, white spunk hitting the back of his chair, his body shuddering through.

Something cracks loudly and suddenly Harry is falling forward. Draco’s arms are around Harry’s chest in an instant and Harry lets go of the chair, running his hands through Draco’s hair and Draco pumps, one, two three more times before stilling, his cock pulsing into Harry. Draco mutters Harry’s name, telling him he loves him as he fills Harry with come. He holds Harry tight against his chest, their sweat making them slick. Panting, Harry relaxes against Draco as they stand in the middle of their office, thoroughly fucked.

As Draco begins to soften in Harry, his arms still tight around Harry’s chest, Harry opens his eyes. The toy is lying on the floor, in plain sight, abandoned and ready to be pocketed by one of them and taken home. Or to be sent down to evidence whilst Harry goes and buys a similar one. His t-shirt and Draco’s shirt are curled together on the floor, looking as dishevelled as Harry feels. And next to them is… ah.

“Draco…” Harry says, looking at the back of his brand new, best chair in the department, lying on the floor. Completely not connected to the rest of the chair. Fuck.

“Yes, Harry?” Draco huffs into his hair, his forehead pressed against Harry.

“My chair is broken.” Harry relaxes against his boyfriend, not entirely sure he cares. He can always buy a new one.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are seen, read and loved! Thanks for reading


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